"And I," said Bertha, a little thoughtfully, "have never assumed a serious aspect."
"Never," he replied, exultingly. "You have been a perfect success. There is but one Bertha"—
"And her husband is her prophet!" she added. "You are very good to me, Richard, and it is entirety useless for you to deny it, because I shall insist upon it with—with wild horses, if necessary; which figure of speech I hope strikes you as being strong enough."
She was herself again—neither eager nor in earnest, ready to amuse him and to be amused, waving her fan for his benefit, touching up his cushions to make him more comfortable, and seeming to enjoy her seat on the edge of his sofa very much indeed.
"Do you know," she said, at length, "what I have thought of doing? I have thought quite seriously of going in a day or so to Fortress Monroe with the children."
She felt that he started slightly, and wondered why.
"Are you surprised?" she asked. "Would you rather I would not go?"
"No," he answered, "if you think it would be better for you. You are tired, and the weather is very warm. But—have you set any particular day?"
"No," she said, "I should not do that without speaking to you first."
"Well," he returned, "then suppose you do not go this week. I have half-invited Senator Planefield, and Macpherson and Ashley to dinner for Thursday."